July 2007 Archives
UGK and Dizzee Rascal Again
UGK feat. Dizzee Rascal & Pimpin' Ken: "Two Type of Bitches"
from the forthcoming UGK: UnderGround Kingz
We've been down this road before, and it was good then. "Where da Gs" was a Dizzee Rascal song in tone, while maybe a UGK record in execution. Conversely, "Two Type of Bitches" feels snotty, pissy the way Dizzee does, not quite harrowng, but peeved, even though the production is pure Southern slide — languid guitar, skittish pattern, organ stabs. Dizzee is maybe a bit out of his zone here and struggles to get in the pocket the way Bun did on "Gs," but this kind of cross-pollination can only be a good thing. As for Pimpin' Ken, well you know how those things go.
In our August issue I wrote a short feature on Dizzee, here's part one of the transcript from our interview. I'll post part two tomorrow.
Sean Fennessey: Hey Dizzee, where are you calling from?
Dizzee Rascal: Yo, I’m in London at XL Studios.
SF: How’s it going now?
DR: Doin a promo day, it’s alright.
SF: Tell me about London right now. Your life in London
DR: (Exhales): Ahhhh…I’m just preparing for my album release. I’m about to do a lot of shows.
SF: Is the city any different than it was when you started with the first record?
DR: Not really. There’s been an eruption in violence, I guess. Kids stabbing each other and shit like that. There’s been a lot of panic on the news. That’s London, that’s what’s going on here.
SF: Why has it been happening?
DR: Kids are just beefing. It’s beef. Young kids are goin through it. They’re killin each other basically. I don’t know why. The reason it’s always been. Poverty, miseducation.
SF: Does it feel worse than it was when you were a teenager?
DR: It’s a tricky one because when I was a teenager I was in the thick of it. People weren’t taking as much notice as they are now. Now I’m not really in the thick of it, and it’s all over the news. And fucking, it’s young kids, so it seems a lot worse than it is. Well it is a lot worse, but it’s something that’s always been there. It’s not nothing new really.
SF: Is it strange for you to not be in the thick of it for the first time?
DR: Yeah, kind of. To see it from the outside.
SF: When you first began to get famous did you have a hard time transitioning out of that?
DR: Yeah, it was ridiculous. It was one of the hardest things, obviously. Your home is one thing, all your friends. With a new fuckin’ lease on life, having to leave people behind because they’re not doing the same thing, trying to work things out. But that’s life, you have to do it. Everyone’s path’s different.
SF: Did you feel like you were leaving people when fame first came?
DR: Yeah, definitely and it killed me and I held back a lot as well. I went out of my way to overcompensate for it. Which wasn’t necessarily the right thing to do.
SF: What did you do?
DR: Cuz I loved my friends and if you’re seeing more of the world, you want to show people. Outside of your neighborhood you want to show them. But we haven’t got the same causes or the same reason.
SF: Would you take them on the road with you? Would you give them money? What would you do?
DR: When I first started getting money, this is even before my record deal, I used to just give out money. By the time I was 17, 18 I was givin my friends $100s for fun so they could do the same things I could do. Like do that, do this. Just like you do. In the hood you share, innit? Then people start ‘iberties, you give them the benefit of the doubt because you were close once. By the end, you need to cut them off.
SF: Was it difficult to start cutting people off?
DR: Yeah, but eventually you just have to, innit? No one will try to take the piss out of you like your friends, man. Anyone, not just me. Cuz they’re your friends, there’s a lot more they thought they could get away with. They just take liberties. But whatever. Fuck it, end of day I carry on and make new friends.
SF: You mentioned the world outside earlier, and that’s obviously the name of the first song on the album. Tell me about this album and your goals for it.
DR: For this album I wanted to have fun. I wanted to listen to it and have fun listening to it. I wanted to be entertained. I wanted to be uptempo, upbeat, exciting. I wanted to roll along, keep moving. I started this album straight after I did Showtime. For a minute it was kind of headed in the same direction. And then I kicked back and thought, ‘No this needs to be one big party record. But obviously with some serious side to it eventually. But other than that, keep it moving. And obviously the snap thing happened Down South in America. And that D4L, fuckin Dem Franchize Boyz thing, that hit me. And I loved it. It got me excited me about hip hop again. The other people in America said ‘Hip Hop Is Dead’ and all kind of shit, but for me that just excited me and made me jump about and be happy. And the new Young Jeezy album. All that. That shit excited me and made wanna…it took me back to that vibe of making people wanna dance and have a good time again.
SF: I can hear that in “Flex,” it’s kind of a snap record…
DR: It’s partying. It sounds more like a funky house record, but I think you’re thinking of the whole vibe is to have a good time.
SF: That’s interesting because in America D4L and DFB are looked down upon, like they’re degrading hip hop in some way.
DR: Yeah, people need to stop taking themselves so seriously and remember what original hip hop was about in the first place – yeah there was a whole political side, basically they were using the music to get their message across. But hip hop started as party music, man in discos and all that. It came from that era. Have a good time, you don’t need to preach all over the music all the time. Have a good time, drink some drinks, smoke some something, have sex, have fun.
SF: That’s not necessarily people’s perception of you though. They think you’re very serious, a storyteller, talking about your life in roughneck London while you’re growing up. Do you think that people will have a hard time accepting you like this?
DR: I don’t think so, man, because I’ve done it well. I’ve done it as good as I’ve done my previous stuff, the serious stuff. I’ve always said I don’t want to be put in no genre, no box. And it goes the same for my content as well. So I’m talking about some rough times, but I actually started out in clubs making music that you could jump around to. I had that conscious side to me which was the edge, I guess. But I was dying to make some jump-up party-happy music, without trying to make imitation American-sounding music.
SF: I don’t think it sounds like American rap music, but it’s still interesting. Do you think it’s party music because you’re out of that lifestyle in a lot of ways?
DR: Yeah, partly, except that doesn’t have to be my last. I can’t help everything that goes on around me, but accepting...in other words, hip hop, there’s this idea of not being allowed to have good stuff and rappers insisting that they’re still in the hood. Still doin’ this and that. What’s the problem? Enjoy life, it’s all good. I’m grown up to that thing. I don’t feel I have to do that. But I might punch you in your face if you rub me the wrong way still.
SF: That’s a good segue into UGK. The record you did with them is essentially “I’ll punch you in the face.” I know you went to Texas last year, is that the first time you met Bun B?
DR: Nah, we actually done a track before. Nothing ever come of it. I been back and forth from America and Texas is one of the main places I been to. He’s shown me a lot of love. I did come out there for this one and he showed me around into the clubs. He treated me like family, man. That’s someone I really look up to. I love the UGK thing, especially the older stuff.
SF: So as a kid, you were a longtime fan of theirs.
DR: From when I was about 18, I guess. Just before my first album, that’s when I got into them. It excited me. They’re really lyrical for South rappers, not that the South ain’t lyrical, but it’s more party-popping shit. They’re serious rappers.
SF: How did you record the record?
DR: “Two Type of Bitches,” they sent me that. And “Where Da Gs” I sent them that.
SF: What about that first song you mentioned? Where did it come from and where did it go?
DR: I don’t even know. That happens all the time, you record a track and then you don’t even know. But the tracks we’ve done now are much better.
SF: Do you feel when you’re rapping with them that you can be yourself or do you have to change in any way?
DR: Nah, that was the beautiful thing. I listened to their music because I felt them genuinely enough that I knew I could just be myself because that’s what they do. There’s no secret that the South, Southern hip hop has been a major influence on what I do, my music. So I knew I’d have no problem rapping with them. Even though I did the beat — and you could say it’s a grime beat – at the end of the day it’s all about tempo. And they’re versatile, they’ve got no trouble rapping over any kind of beat.
SF: You didn’t feel like you had to tailor to them in any way?
DR: No, I actually made the beat before I thought about anything like that. I did “Two Type of Bitches” first, then “Where da Gs” and then I asked Bun if he’d feature. And he did, it was no problem, and he got Pimp to come on it as well.
SF: Do you see a line musically between what the South does and what grime does?
DR: All day. I started that grime shit no matter what anyone wants to say. And I was listening to Three 6 Mafia, No Limit, Hot Boyz, all that shit. All Lil Jon and all that’s massive now but I guess it was like 2000, or 1999 I was playin that shit for people in England and they were looking at me like I was crazy. Like I was playing them heavy metal or something. I always had that influence. Even “I Luv U,” that “I-I-I-I-I-Luv U,” that’s the kind of shit I was hearing in Three 6 Mafia, they was doing that ages ago. Major influence, man.
SF: Where would you play Three 6? For friends? At a party?
DR: Someone introduced it to me and I’d take it to school. And be playin’ it [singing] “Ass-n-Titties, Ass-n-Titties, Ass-Ass-n-Titties.” People were like “What the fuck?” They couldn’t even fathom what was going on. Everything was about West Coast and East Coast. They weren’t trying to take that shit seriously in England. It’s only just reaching.
SF: It’s only just hitting now?
DR: Really. It’s big now, in the past three years.
SF: Take me back further when you first started rapping.
DR: Must have been about 13, 14 when I first started writing lyrics and going on pirate radio and doing little and going into different rave and youth clubs. Anywhere I could rap, anywhere I could MC I would.
SF: Can you describe pirate radio for me, how it exists now, what form is it in?
DR: Pirate radio existed ages before me. Everything’s on pirate radio, everything from dancehall to garage to bass to hip hop to fuckin Nigerian’s music. Indian music. It’s a big culture in England. The music I was doing was influenced by drum n bass, that’s what made me listen to pirate radio. But actually when I MCed, when I was rapping, I was rapping over garage. And then eventually I was making my own music. Which effectively became grime due to the journalists. They’re normally in tire blocks, full tire blocks, or just sheds above fucking clubs or whatever. They’re illegal. The transmitter that they put on a high-powered block somewhere in the area so they could get the most coverage possible.
SF: How many people can it reach?
DR: Some of the big stations can go all across London, some go outside of London in the suburbs. It’s coverage man, it’s an underground movement. And it’s relevant today. As it’s ever been. It’s one of those things that could only be destroyed by digital radio. It’s a culture that’s just been there, it’s been a major avenue for most urban artists in England to come through.
SF: Do you still listen?
DR: Sometimes. I haven’t listened to pirate radio properly for some time. I don’t listen to new grime so much. I might listen to some old garage. Like to reminisce about that time, cuz that’s feel good music. Or drum n bass. Anyone that’s big in grime, you’re gonna hear it.
SF: How much did garage and drum n bass shape your production sound?
DR: Yeah, it’s a major influence cuz that’s the things that was at home, that’s the thing I could draw from. Even though I loved hip hop and I wanted to do that thing that could get me that distinctive sound. People in America draw influences from jazz, soul, R&B, that’s how they get their sound. And electro obviously. For me drum n bass, garage, though garage came from America first, speed garage was here.
Caffeine
M.I.A. feat. Afrikan Boy: "Hussel"
from the forthcoming Kala
No need for coffee this morning. This moment redeems all the sophomore hype.
will.i.am: World Class Geneticist
will.i.am: "I Got It From My Mama"
from the forthcoming Songs About Girls
It takes will.i.am either 20 minutes or 20 weeks to write these songs. There's something wonderfully shameless and simultaneously repugnant about it. He's a smart guy.
Lil Wayne: Live and In Love
Lil Wayne featuring Baby, Juelz Santana, Kanye West, Ja Rule, Mack Maine, DJ Khaled, Kia Shine @ The Beacon Theatre
Sunday, July 22, 2007
If I were the type of man interested only in fanning the flames of legacy, then to celebrate last night's Lil Wayne performance would be an easy task. But it wasn't life-altering. Great, good and decent, not necessarily in that order. With a keen flair for the dramatic and an otherworldly sense of self, he did deliver several disarming, sometimes thrilling moments. Though I couldn't shake something. Last night, pulsing with the anxiousness only a young audience can provide (there were several under-17s in the crowd) and riddled with billowy smoke, was potentially more about tragedy than anything else. Or at least leaving the door wide open for something tragic. And then it wasn't. At all.
Wayne stomped onto the stage to the muffled sounds of "Fireman" just before 10 pm and tore off a pair of Gucci sunglasses to reveal two sunken, drooping eyelids. He looked unwell, agitated, dazed. The crowd, dependably, lost control and Wayne proceeded with an average, almost unprepared version of the song from The Carter II, his best and most recent solo album. He followed with an equally balky "Hustler Musik," the second single from the same album. At this point Wayne, seemingly getting his sea legs, eyes widening, told the crowd "I am nothing without you. You made this happen," a credo he repeated several times throughout the nearly 75 minute performance. And strangely, the moment he acknowledged the audience, he came alive. He blazed through nearly all iterations of his career, from Hot Boys nostalgia on 1999's "Tha Block is Hot" to his evolution into cocksure wordsmith on 2005's "Go DJ." He nodded at his almost too-rapid mixtape prolificacy with a rapturously-received version of "Ride For My Niggas/Sky Is The Limit" from Da Drought 3. Perhaps most importantly, he writhed and crooned while delivering the closing stanza of his new ballad, "Prostitute," eliciting arguably more emotional resonance from the song, in which he tells a lover "I wouldn't care if you were a prostitute," than on anything he's ever done. It's a feat that is larger than it sounds, particularly as Wayne has grown in recent years into a gurgling non sequitur-spouting arthropod, expected to deliver a fresh freestyle with turns of phrase and little else. I say 'growth' because while his stylistic moves have been roundly resisted by doubters, he's no doubt more invested in his art than ever before. "Prostitute," which is so raw, honest and surprisingly inoffensive is a real testament.
This being an event concert, tagged with a clever "& Friends" after the headliner's name, some guests showed. DJ Khaled arrived onstage minutes before Wayne and his presence was ghastly. Khaled is continuously bludgeoned in the press for not actually doing anything (other than shrieking chestnuts like "We The Best" and "Lisssen!") which may have seemed a harsh charge in the past as he's one of the most in-demand party DJs and tastemakers in Miami. But he indicted himself last night, playing short snippets of records either irrelevant to the night or the decade. He paid tribute to Biggie ("Hypnotize"), 2Pac ("Hail Mary") and Big Pun ("100%"). Fine. Then he played his new single, the exhausting "I'm So Hood," which he noted was "broken" in New York by Angie Martinez and DJ Enuff, the night's hosts from New York's hip-hop station, Hot 97. When Khaled mentioned Angie and Enuff breaking the record (which I've never heard on Hot 97), Angie nearly fell over laughing. Khaled, who strode across the stage mimicking himself on the song and generally looking ill-suited for the stage, did little to excite anyone.
Shortly into the set, Wayne introduced Ja Rule, with Irv Gotti, middle fingers-flipped to the crowd, and the two performed Ja's surprisingly nimble comeback single "Uh Oh." Long on concept it's not ("Uh oh uh uh uh oh" goes the chorus), but it knocks and Wayne did his best to let Ja have the spotlight, even if his verse ("Run and I will hit you like Jeremiah Trot-ter!') is ten times that of Ja's. Rule followed with his verse from "New York" and quickly scampered off - an effective, almost uplifitng cameo. Ja Rule - relevant again?
In the ever-spinning rotation of guests, Juelz Santana (though not Jim Jones, who was reportedly escorted off the premises by suspicious authorities — security and police presence was heavy and nasty all night, causing Wayne to say this might be "the last time I do a concert in New York ever again.") entered to the sounds of Cam'ron's "Touch It Or Not," odd since Juelz does not rap on that song, though understandable because it features one of Wayne's sharpest, funniest, lewdest verses ever ("I get head in the strangest places/Two at the same time, call it changing faces"). Even more strange, Wayne never played a Juelz record and the Harlem MC played hypeman number two (to Young Money MC/Wayne acolyte Mack Maine) the rest of the night. Sad, too, because Wayne and Juelz have recorded at least 13 songs together for their upcoming I Can't Feel My Face collaborative album and have dynamite chemistry. Pity Juelz Santana - his boss is in exile recovering (vacationing?) from battle with 50 Cent, his pal Jones escorted away, associate Stack Bundles recently murdered in cold blood. Tis an unsettling time for The Diplomats.
Later in the set, after reminiscing over the wonders of his many surprise appearances at this year's Summer Jam (also a Hot 97 event), Wayne unleashed Kanye West for a long take on his middling single "Can't Tell Me Nothing." Like nearly everyone else in the building, the sight of Kanye was an exhilarating one, but to hear verses two and three from that song is to understand how far away Kanye has gotten from what made him so great. It's dull and bloodless and worst of all, lacks ideas. He left, with little fanfare at song's end.
At one point Wayne dragged Baby onstage for a few cuts from last year's Like Father, Like Son album, including a rendition of "Leather So Soft" featuring Wayne on acoustic guitar. Finger plucking the instrument, Weezy looked somewhat uncomfortable, but did turn out a melody or two, when it wasn't drowned out by the bass. The two also performed "Stuntin' Like My Daddy" and "You Ain't Know," crowd-pleasers both. Just generally, I'm not sure why Baby raps these days. He doesn't seem especially hungry for fame and obviously was never much of an MC. Confusing, though I suppose if you can, then you should.
To close, Wayne called Khaled back to the stage and "We Takin' Over" began playing, slithering sonically-reductive Danja beat filling the theater. Baby spit his verse as Wayne curled into the fetal position on the ground next to him, awaiting his moment. As Birdman finished, Wayne leaped up, ripping his wifebeater off and half-rhyming his verse, until "Touch and I will bust your medulla," when he exploded, raging and thrashing for the rest of the song.
Now about that tragedy thing. During those opening moments of the show, with Wayne clearly drifting in and out of himself, he looked something like Jim Morrison must have in his dying days. To his credit he snapped out of it and put on a compelling show. But I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to Wayne if he died right there on the spot or perhaps at the afterparty or the next morning. I wonder not to be morose, but just to understand how an artist's legacy works. Surely Wayne has never had more artistic credibility or been as beloved as he is now. He already goes by Best Rapper Alive. For a rapper with no radio single and no album on the horizon, to sell out a historic uptown theater with tickets at nearly $100 for orchestra seats is to know transcendent popularity. He doesn't exist in the song cycle pushed forward by ringtones and digital sales. Wayne is iconic in a bizarre way and his death is probably the only thing that could elevate him further. Judging by the pallor across his face, he looked close. And then suddenly, he wasn't. Maybe that's the measure of the man.
Two especially notable moments: Near the end of his set, Wayne delivered a new song accompanied only by Mack Maine's beatbox called "Pussy Monster." As in "Feed me, feed me, feed me pussy." Easily the highlight of the night and one of the weirdest, most shockingly masculine moves of the night, Wayne reveled in corpus cunnilingus. Bizarre, hilarious and again, honest. The ladies loved it. The other notable? Wayne quoted Whitney Houston at night's end, dropped the mic and exited, full 30-person entourage in tact, to the sounds of her "I Will Always Love You." And like that, he was gone.
UPDATE: Wayne and Ja Rule arrested, and who could be surprised.
Chamillionaire Is Giving Music Away
Why don't you go get it. Right now. Free of charge.
Download Chamillionaire's Mixtape Messiah 3
If you're too lazy to sit through a free (it's all free these days, though, isn't it?) mixtape, allow me to point you to these perfectly good freestyles.
Chamillionaire: "Ima Playa Fosho"
Chamillionaire: "Don't Hurt 'Em Hammer"
Night Night
J. Holiday: "Bed"
from the forthcoming Back of the Lac
The Dream: "Shawty (Is the Shit)"
You know North Carolina's Terius "The Dream" Nash, he just happens to be anonymous. He's the songwriter of Rihanna's "Umbrella," that enormous pop single whose long-running dominance will likely begin annoying the world right...about...now. Nash, though, is hard at work solidifying himself as something of a new R&B impresario, penning tracks for other up-and-comers, like the talented Holiday and his fast-rising "Bed." That song, along with Mario's transcendent "Kryptonite" and Elliott Yamin's white boy soul stunner "Movin' On," is in the running for my R&B song of the year (T-Pain and Kells lunacy discounted). Nash is also attempting stardom, too, with the eerily transfixing "Shawty." Should the song catch on, that'll make it four 2007 hits with shawty in the title. It's less traditional than Holiday's brokedown love-sex-pain imagery. It's more like soul-snap. No complaints here.
Steel Drums Are Catnip
Soulja Boy: "Crank Dat"
from the Stacks on Deck mixtape
This is probably the most ignorant song (that also happens to be badly recorded) that I've heard in a while. And it's amazing. There is no depth, substance or ideas. But there are steel drums (ask D.G. Yola and Clipse about their power). And vitality. And the wise decision on the part of Atlanta's Soula Boy to repeatedly utter his name throughout the song. It's all about branding, people.
The One You Forgot About (Or Never Knew)
Kano: "London Town"
from the forthcoming London Town
An album to get excited about (Though probably not in this country, if this is any indication.) Now is as good a time as any to begin caring about Kano.
Polow Da Don in Regurgitation Scandal!
Nicole Scherzinger feat. T.I.: "Whatever You Like"
from the forthcoming Her Name Is Nicole
Kelis: "Blindfold Me"
from Kelis Was Here
Dear Polow,
Stop biting yourself. Kthanxbye!
Your pal,
Sean
Blaster Ain't Got Nothing On Me
"Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes."
"Transformers Theme" (Composed by Robert J. Walsh)
Another brief interlude from rap-mania. I caught the premiere of the ballyhooed, super-moneymaking film Transformers last week in Westwood, Los Angeles (after my BET Awards bonanza) and now is as good an opportunity as any to go hypernerd on you with what may be the finest Saturday morning cartoon theme ever. From the mind of Robert J. Walsh, who was rocking themes for "G.I. Joe" and "The Muppet Babies" while you were still in Pampers, comes the theme to end all themes. Respect due, I know the above thirty seconds forces the chills of childhood rushing down your spine.
Many thanks to the fine folks at General Motors, sponsors of the film (you won't miss their signage throughout), for having me out for what is probably the most visually breathtaking film experience of the summer months. As some co-workers and I discussed today, never before have CGI creations and human actors interacted together so believably — regardless of the cinematographic tactics. In many cases, the shimmering tin cans outacted their flesh-n-blood counterparts. Real talk: Optimus Prime (voiced by the inimitable Peter Cullen) is about five times more gracious and "method" than Josh Duhammel. That said, I did see Jon Voight at the premiere: Don Status.
Lil Wayne is a Musical Polyglot
Gym Class Heroes ft. Lil Wayne: "Viva La White Girl (Remix)"
Gym Class Heroes are perceived by some as something of a joke. Not bad guys, gentle, good sense of melody, reaping the rewards of a post-Fall Out Boy existence by mixing their romantic raps with winding guitars. I wrote a short piece on them earlier this year and came to find lead singer/rapper Travis McCoy is a bit of a rap nerd, or at least wanted to be considered one. We talked about Main Source and Akinyele. He called "Lookin' At My Front Door," the first song he turns to when he has a bad breakup. I was a bit resistant to the idea of writing about them when the idea was first posed to me by my editor because I'd heard the hits and didn't think much of Travis as an MC (As if that somehow matters these days). It wasn't until spending some time with their album, As Cruel As School Children, and the song "Viva La White Girl," that I was swayed. On the song Travis eschews rapping for singing. It's probably the best thing on the album; atmospheric, goofy, supple. And the subject matter is a real tricky "Is it or isn't it?" cocaine anthem. Travis denied that theory when I asked him, but he also denied it being about "white girls" at a show later that week. Lil Wayne, to his credit, leaves such ambiguities aside. Proving, once again, he will rap on anything (apparently there's a freestyle of him spitting over the White Stripes' "Icky Thump" floating around, too?) Wayne dives headlong into coke territory.
He raps, "Yippie-yo ki-yay giddy-up/as the white stallion bucks/and kicks me in my nose until my face busts/fuck and they say that they can keep the pace up/but it's clear as a mirror they don't wanna race us/as I stare in this mirror and powder my face up/and I never ever been one to make up any allegations/ the alligators ate us." And later, "Reach me on the hotline and burn your nostrils." This all sort of annihilates Travis' tiptoeing around the issue. It also furthers the idea that Wayne is desperately trying to reach new listeners in all walks. By continuing his obsession with drug culture, courting a rap-rock crew with hordes of white female fans, attacking the catalogue of a strict rock act like the White Stripes and unleashing tons of new music daily, Wayne — vocal tics, blubbery non-sequiturs, firebreathing intensity and all — is completely redefining how we get music and who can hear it. Fan or not (I've begun to see the other side of Wayne lately, the side that dismissers complain about — with all his prolificacy, he can be a lazy writer) there's a revolutionary bent to this strategy. A song leaks? No problem, I'll record ten more better than that. How long he can sustain this run remains to be seen.
